When I started this diary,
I was unemployed. That seems the most significant description
of my life back then: I had no job. We lived in an apartment
and dreamed constantly of owning our own house. The reason we
couldn't - well, that single income thing. I felt so desperately
unhappy about not being able to contribute to our financial situation.
The reason we couldn't achieve our dream was all my fault. All
the penny pinching we had to do - my fault. The crappy commute
JB endured day after day - my fault. I felt burdened with guilt.
I felt filled with shame as the days marched on and the phone
never rang, the interviews never came through, the end of the
unemployment benefits loomed into sight.

It sounds overly dramatic,
I know. It's not like anyone was sick, or dying, or in real trouble.
We were okay. I just didn't feel okay. Not about myself, our
situation, or anything.

The one bright part of my day
was posting in this journal. I looked forward to it, this daily
routine with its overtones of task and accomplishment.
It was something for me to do. And any time someone gave me positive
feedback about it, some of that guilt and sorrow and panic I
was feeling got pushed out of the way for a while.

I guess I just want you to
know, if you've read this diary before if you're just stopping
by today (perhaps in search of a bangkokblowjobbar), how much
it's meant to me that I have had the chance to do this. This
writing thing, this goofy joking around with you. And your nice
words have meant more to me than you will ever know.